Memories
by Angelforceus
Summary: ~CHAPTER 2 IS NOW UP~ What if Peter Pan had stayed with Wendy and the rest of the Lost Boys? What if everyone forgot the magical reality of Neverland, all except Peter? And what if...what if Peter had found a way to make them believe once more?
1. Not this again!

Author's Note: Strange how one can develop a sudden case of Peter Pan Obsession so quickly ****

Author's Note: Most of this story was inspired by the movie "Hook". You will encounter some scenes that seem awful familiar to the movie mentioned. If this distracts you from the story, I apologize. And if you haven't even seen the movie "Hook" then what are you waiting for? Oh, yes, and this setting is situated in the present. Just thought you'd like to know.

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Introduction: Strange how one can develop a sudden case of Peter Pan Obsession so quickly. What is 

stranger is that it all happened after seeing the movie "Hook", especially since I have not even glanced at the title for 3 long years. So what has inspired me to write this? The pure magical feeling you get when you experience the flight into Neverland, or battles with pirates, or songs of mermaids, be it book or movie. The radiant idea of a boy who flies and never grows up, and the infinite possibilities to stretch his destiny further into a story…

This story. 

Enough of my rambling. I will say that I do not own Peter Pan or any related characters; they are J.M. Barrie's delightful creations. I hope you enjoy this fan fiction. I had loads of fun writing it.

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Memories

.chapter one.

Peter Pan promised himself that he would never grow up. Even when he was "adopted" by Wendy, he solemnly swore that no one would force him into a business suit, or cram him into a stuffy office to do paperwork everyday. He would stay in London and be a boy forever, and he would fly so high up in the night skies, even the birds would be jealous!

But of course, he would be happier if this was all situated in Neverland instead. He wanted Wendy's parents to disappear, to leave them be; that way, everyone could fly off to Neverland and be content with their lives. That way, they could continue their stories and their adventures, and their laughter would echo throughout the land, like it had done many times before.

But Wendy's parents never did disappear, no matter how hard Peter wished it to be, and so, he had chosen to stay, instead of leading a most boring life with no one to laugh with back home.

He tried very hard not to just give up, ignoring the powerful temptation to fly back to Neverland, and remarkably, he managed to do just that. He trudged on through the schoolwork, through the homework, and through the nursery work. 

Peter didn't like school, just like any sane child wouldn't. It was boring, and everywhere there were grown-ups, droning on and on about this plus this equals that, and this is due tomorrow, opposed to what was due today and so on. Then, they made you write down on a piece of paper exactly what they had just been preaching to you, as if you hadn't heard it a hundred times already!

Sometimes, he had to bring a variety of those papers "home" to the orphanage (homework is what Wendy called it) and he would have to toil over them until he was finished. Lazy as he sometimes was, Peter didn't always actually do his homework, but Wendy took care of that problem. It cut into his free time (what little of that he had) and it sometimes gave him the most agonizing headaches.

Added to his already busy life at the nursery, his responsibilities were heavier when it came to taking care of the Lost Boys, although they were never called that anymore. Considering that he was the oldest of the group that came from Neverland, and that Wendy already had schooling and other chores also, Peter constantly found himself counting how many of them there were in the household, to make sure no one had wandered off. In the worst cases, even _cleaning_ up after them. He despised that most of all, because only grown-ups did that, and like mentioned before, he swore to never grow up.

But what enraged him most of all, and maybe even hurt him, was the fact that memories of adventures in Neverland were fading from everyone's mind. Usually, it would be the other way around, since Peter was the one who always forgot things. But something about Neverland, second star to the right, stuck in his mind, stayed in his dreams, and so he never forgot. And he always knew it to be real.

One day, two years after he had decided to leave Neverland, he asked Wendy, "Do you remember the time when we flew to Neverland for the first time, and Michael kept falling asleep and I had to swoop down and catch him? Do you remember Wendy? Oh, do you remember all the fun we had in Neverland?"

He wasn't sure where this question came from. Possibly from deep down in his thoughts, where the past lie idle.

At this Wendy simply smiled and said:

"Silly boy, why do you still wade in long forgotten dreams? You are wise and grown and shouldn't still believe in tales we that made when we were younger."

Peter was shocked, and for the very first time, he simply did not just forget about it.

"What?!" he practically yelled for the whole house to hear. "Wendy, don't you remember? We flew to Neverland and fought Captain Hook, and you told us stories and you pretended to be our Mother! Why, we even made a little house for you! How could you forget so easily?"

Wendy only shook her head and said, "I've still got more chores to do, Peter, and I suggest that you finish your homework. Try not to dwell on the past so much; it should be the future that concerns you more." Thinking that all was well, the young woman strode out the door, humming a song she loved so very much on her way out.

That day, Peter Pan had locked himself in his room and would say nothing to no one. He would refuse lunch and dinner, despite his begging stomach.

That day, and from that day on, he ceased to mention Neverland as best he could.

_____

Years past one another, laughing in joy as they were slowly forgotten, and Peter turned eighteen. Wendy was seventeen, only a few months behind Peter, and all the other orphans were various ages, but mostly around the fourteen margin. John was sixteen years, and Michael thirteen. 

Peter didn't even realize that he had grown a good height taller than when he had first flown through the nursery window, covered in a green skeleton-leafed tunic, looking for a rebellious shadow. Nor did Peter realize that he had a great deal of more common sense, which was almost hard to believe. But one thing about Peter that stubbornly refused to change was his cockiness. No, no, he could never get rid of that, no matter how hard he tried.

And there was one more thing that stood its ground, refusing to dissolve and make room for something else: Peter still believed in Neverland, though maybe that belief was dormant at the time. His dreams revolved around that magical island, and all the time, when he would awaken to face a new morning, there was a strange feeling lingering in his soul, somewhere deep down. It felt like homesickness, the bittersweet kind that pokes and jabs, leaving you with a funny attitude of both melancholy and anxiety.

But those feelings were quickly forgotten as the day passed into the sunny afternoon. It always did, only to reappear the next morning after reveries of Neverland. The place where fairies sang and mermaids traded gossip. The same place where the crooked, but kind old Nevertree stood, facing the ocean breeze. The same ocean breezes that whistled and rushed, pushing the pirate ship Jolly Roger along with it.

What ever happened to them? Peter often wondered. Did they know he was gone? Did it really matter? Did they…forget him?

Perhaps they did. He would not forget Neverland, but Neverland could forget _him_…

His thoughts often strayed to this when his "morning melancholy" sometimes was more rigid than ever, past the morning and staggering with Peter into the rest of the day. On days like that, he would never utter a kind word, for he regained his anger at the thought that everyone had simply forgotten. 

Such was this one especially despondent day, when Wendy had cooked something dangerously luscious, and all were seated at the dining room table. 

Mr. and Mrs. Darling had left on a long needed vacation away from London, and they trusted Wendy to keep the place in order. Wendy had done just that, and a good job at it, too, perhaps even better than before. Everywhere was spotless, except for times when Wendy was not home; then the boys would simply make a mess of the place until she returned to clean up. 

Not to mention that Wendy was an extraordinary cook. Everyone agreed on that, which is no small feat, and gratefully had their share. Except for Peter, whom on this particular day, did not feel like eating, much less say a word to anyone.

"Well, I think that our Algebra teacher is much more strict than any of yours," said Slightly, although he was no longer called "Slightly", but Peter could never remember what his new name was, so he simply called him what he remembered. It agitated the poor boy, because even he had no clue why Peter called him such names. He found it cocky and sometimes even rude.

But, of course, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"I doubt that," said Wendy in her matter-of-factly voice that she often used. "A couple of grades higher, and you'll see teachers that are even harsher than what you have."

Usually, Peter would comment on the so-called arrogance he believed teachers held reserved for them, but the only retort that came was a disturbing silence.

"Peter," Michael the most observant of the group started, "What's the matter? You seem awfully quiet, and you've barely touched your food."

"I'm not hungry," Peter said briskly, and tapped his fork on the side of his plate to break the awkward silence.

"Your haven't been yourself today," echoed a voice from somewhere across the table, but Peter wasn't sure which one.

"I haven't truly been myself ever since I left," the forlorn one replied, brushing an annoying strand of hair out of his blue eyes.

Wendy, who happened to have even sharper hearing than Peter himself, said in that matter-of-factly voice, "Left…_where_, Peter?"

The suspense in the room was thick and almost tangible. All eyes where on Peter, and this was one occasion where the attention _bothered_ him.

An uncomfortable grunt escaped from the pit of his throat, signaling the reluctance that now stirred in him. The young man knew where this conversation was heading.

"Neverland…" he said in a voice so low that the wind itself couldn't even hear if it tried its hardest.

"What?" said everyone concurrently, only hearing a mumble instead of the name of a fairy tale island.

The interrogated one let out a frustrated sigh. This had happened before and it was happening again; he might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Neverland, all right?! Neverland!" he bellowed louder than he intended.

A rolling of eyes, exasperated groans, and the raising of eyebrows and some light snickering followed this. You could imagine how Peter felt.

"Not this again!" said one twin.

"Not this again, Peter!" mimicked the other.

"I remember stories of Neverland that Wendy used to tell me," John thought aloud, straightening his spectacles in deep thoughts of nostalgia.

"I was rather good at that, now wasn't I?" said the one mentioned previously, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Yes, very."

All started to talk at once, ignoring the boy who had started the conversation in the first place, and began to babble on about how stories of Neverland were like this, and arguing that it was more like that, and some disagreeing altogether that it wasn't like this or that in the first place. 

The boy who remembered remained silent. Everyone else continued talking.

_____

Night had fallen and the household had fallen into a state of peace. The cool atmosphere of the outside air seeped inside, and quickly put all to sleep. All but Peter Pan, who was gazing out the window, looking at a certain second star the right.

That bright light in the sky twinkled and winked, as if it were looking at Peter and smiling at him. Not mockingly, but reassuringly, telling him that he was not forgotten. Telling him that he would never be forgotten as long as he believed. 

One person believing was easy enough. One person not letting that belief die and go where ever dead beliefs go is not so easy, Peter thought to himself.

He wasn't sure what it was, but confidence found him at that very moment, as if it were waiting for the right time to strike. Maybe it was the resolve of that young man who still believed, or maybe it was Neverland itself watching over him, but Peter felt renewed that night. 

Confidence found its fond partner, cockiness, and the two melted into one and became the Peter Pan that all preferred more. 

He would make them believe. Somehow, someday, he would.

With motivating thoughts to calm him, Peter Pan, the symbol of youth itself, lay down on his bed and fell asleep…and dreams of Neverland soon pursued.


	2. To Neverland, Of Course

AN: Well, I finally got my hands on the computer, and fanfiction 

AN: Well, I finally got my hands on the computer, and fanfiction.net is working again. Perfect timing, too…inspiration just happened to come along! Thanks to the people who reviewed this story; I wasn't sure how many reviews I would get, since I don't personally know that many Peter Pan fans. It's nice to know that there are some out there! Anyway, read on!

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Memories

.chapter 2.

Morning sunlight beamed through the open window of Peter's room, and the young man awoke reluctantly at first. It was chilly outside, and any sane person would simply close the window instead of letting a draft in, but Peter made it a strong habit of not closing his windows. He liked the idea of an unrestricted window, and not a closed one, but he couldn't quite remember why…

The birds were busy chatting away outside, speaking of the weather and good trees and such, _(*AN: If you've read "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens", you would know that Peter could talk to and understand birds) _but he really paid no attention to such picky things. Birds never had anything good to say anyway.

There was no bittersweet homesickness lingering in him this morning, even if Peter noticed it or not. It was gone, a banished emotion waiting around in the air for someone else to come along and pick up. There was something especially cocky about him today and it suddenly gave him more energy than is allowed in the mornings. Peter practically leapt out of bed (after a quick yawn), throwing off the covers with little effort. Perhaps he jumped out too quickly, for there was dizziness in his head that everyone sometimes gets when they stand up too fast.

He threw on his afternoon clothes, (T-shirt and jeans, very simple really) ignoring the fact that it was 7:00 am on a Saturday morning. Out the door he went, shutting it in such loud inconsiderate way that half the house stirred in their sleep with groans of disapproval. Morning air finally got to him, cutting past his thin clothing, and Peter shuddered slightly at the sudden cold.

Turning around and opening his room door with a loud creak, which also annoyed the rest of the household, he shuffled through his closet and found a light jacket to wear. Heading out once again with a tumultuous slam of the door, Peter headed downstairs, oblivious to an angry voice coming from the next room:

"Peter, make up your mind! In or out?! For heaven's sake, it's like living with an earthquake…"

_____

A lazy afternoon invaded the morning, and with no one having anything to do, there was a lethargic ambiance in the air. Peter never liked the feeling of lethargy, mostly because it made everyone else around him feel like doing nothing in particular. Days like this were usually filled with an ongoing TV, stretched out bodies on the couch and floor, and arguments over the television control. Today was no different.

"John, let me see the remote! You've had it for a whole hour now!"

"Wait until this show is over…" John muttered, his eyes transfixed on the TV.

"You said that last time…_and_ the time before that…" Peter grumbled, tired of the entire thing.

"Well, excuse me, but I don't happen to see anything else on!" John defended himself loudly, snapping out of his daze.

"That's because you haven't been looking at any other channels, John," Wendy replied calmly, having more patience than the boys.

Late afternoon was turning into evening, doing so with the chiming of the grandfather clock striking six. The "Lost Boys" had gone off into a group together, traveling off to an endless number of places, not even thinking to invite Peter, Wendy, John, or Michael. This could have been considered rude, and it probably was (especially by Wendy), but to put it bluntly, no one really cared for it. Peter usually would have at least considered going, invitation or not, but as was said, lethargy was in the air, and it even managed to effect Peter.

Besides, it usually took them awhile to get back home. No one ever knew why, but Peter suspected it was nothing more than them living up to their names…

"Isn't there anything better on?" asked the latter with a distinctive hint of impatience that is all too well known.

John sighed as the ending credits rolled on the show he was watching so intently.

"No, not anymore," he said, almost disappointed. With a click of the remote, the TV was turned off, and the room was silent for a few rare moments. Then, quite suddenly:

"Peter, think of something for us to do," said Michael calmly, as if he had just told him to take out the trash. "You always come up with something interesting," he continued, mostly because he was simply getting tired of staring at a certain object for the entire day, be it television or a blank wall.

The mentioned one raised his brow slightly, his eyes sparkling under the lights. A hint of an idea was growing in his mind, but it wasn't large enough for him to notice…yet.

"Hmm, what's this? Can't think of what to do, and so you come to me, begging for excitement?" said he, growing slightly arrogant again. Of course, this after all _is _Peter Pan we are talking about, so it can be forgiven. 

"I must admit, you do come up with the most…_interesting_ things to do," commented Wendy, who was sitting in the comfy corner of the couch that was always reserved for her or Peter; whomever got there first.

"Yes," said John, almost sarcastically, "give us some adventure!"

Well, it certainly did take him long enough, but the idea of Neverland finally struck Peter's mind. It was perfect, it was easy! They were bored, so why not give them what they wanted? Adventure, as John had said, was only around the corner.

Actually, more like second star to the right…

A sly grin crept unto his face, the kind you see when someone gets an idea they don't want anyone to know about due to some unorthodox reason. 

"…What is it, Peter?" asked Wendy, uncomfortable about the smile; she knew it all too well.

"Hmm? Oh, just thinking about a wonderful place everyone would love," he replied in a forced unruffled voice.

"Adventure?" queried Michael, always the eager.

"Plenty of it," came the response.

"Really?" said John, in an anxious voice.

"Well, of course! There are such a great many things to do!"

"Well, is it clean? It's not one of those wild places, I assume?"

"I would never take a lady anywhere else but an awfully tidy place," Peter voiced politely. "It _very_ beautiful there, too," he quickly added in the same sneaky way he did when he first met them.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Michael the impatient. "Let's go!" he exclaimed while jumping to his feet.

"No, no, wait, not just yet," Peter said, shaking his head in objection. "We can't go just yet."

"Why not?"

"You'll have to wait until you can see the stars."

"At night?" squeaked Wendy. "What about the rest of the boys? You think I can just leave them alone in an open household? What a mess they'll make!"

"Hold on, we won't be gone long!" Peter almost yelled in fear of losing his one chance, stretching the truth slightly. "They can take care of themselves, and…I'll help clean up the mess if they do happen to make one," he added reluctantly.

"…All right," agreed Wendy, with a faint smile. It had been so long since they had done anything truly fun. "But just where is this adventurous, clean, beautiful place?"

"Ah, _that_ you will have to wait and see," chuckled Peter, all the while choosing his words carefully.

"Until tonight then? Until you can see the stars?" enthusiastically asked Michael.

"Yes, until you can see the stars."

_____

Night came swiftly, mostly due to the fact that it was already half way above the horizon when the previous conversation took place. There wasn't a cloud in the sky; it was as if they had all decided to clear out and make way for Peter's sudden plans. Stars dotted the night like poked holes in a blanket of black, and one star shined brighter than the rest.

All four were in Peter's room, one leaning out the window and calling a strange name forgotten to the other three.

"Tink! Tinkerbell!! Tink!"

"Peter, _what_ on earth are you doing?" questioned Wendy quizzically.

"**TINKERBELL**!" Peter screamed as loud as he could out the window and to the stars, ignoring the barrage of questions.

"You said you were going to take us someplace _exciting_, and no offense, but I don't consider your room a place of amusement," noted John dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm he often held when he was annoyed by something. Especially when he was annoyed at Peter.

An entire minute passed, and Peter finally gave up. He took a step back into his room, shaking his head. 

"I don't get it. She's usually here in only a matter of seconds. A fairy's hearing is supposedly very sensitive."

"_What are you talking about?!" _John almost screamed. "Fairies?! Seriously, I think you've gone mad."

"If you would only wait-"

"Wait? Wait for what?! I don't see anything flying through that window! In fact, I don't see any-"

Poor John didn't get to finish his sentence, for at that very moment, a bright ball of light about the size of your fist zoomed into the room in such a hurry it came as a blur. It carried the sound of bells with it, and it tinkered on relentlessly, leaving trails of golden dusk in its wake.

"Tink! You're back!"

The little glowing fairy landed on Peter's nose and pinched it with all her might, both in anger and in joy of seeing her best friend again.

Unfortunately, all Peter felt was pain.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Stupid boy! How dare you!" she cried in a melody of bells, flying in circles around him. "You've grown! You've grown bigger!"

At this he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"I have not!" he cried indignantly.

"Haha!" Tinkerbell's laugh was a beautiful one, but the bitter sound of badgering was still in it. "Only in height! Only in height, Peter!"

"…well…"

Now, as this all went about, you can imagine the expressions on Wendy, John, and Michael's faces. This was their first time having seen a fairy (well, second, but let's not get technical) and they were speechless. Where did this thing come from? Why did it look like a fairy? And why did Peter understand its language? The questions rolled in hundreds at a time, but none left the mouths of their owners. 

Eventually, a word escaped the caged mouth, although it came out more like a squeak.

"…Peter?" gasped Wendy.

The boy at heart and the fairy stopped their chatting of old times and turned towards the speaker. Tinkerbell immediately noticed Wendy and turned a light tint of red.

"Yes?"

"What…what…"

"What is _that?!_" finished Michael.

"This is Tinkerbell," he replied nonchalantly, pointing at his shoulder where Tink had decided to sit.

"What exactly is a Tinkerbell?" asked John, once again straightening his glasses, as if they were deceiving him. 

Tinkerbell shouted something that sounded rather rude, but Peter didn't bother to translate.

"_She _is a fairy."

"A fairy? Oh, how beautiful!" blurted out Wendy, reminding Peter about the night he first saw her and her excitement about the mermaids.

He shrugged. 

"If you say so."

This was followed by a fierce pinch on his ear.

"Agh, only kidding!"

Quite abruptly there was a change in subject, from fairies to travel, when Peter asked:

"Well, are you ready to go?"

"…Go where?"

"To Neverland, of course."

_________________________

AN: Eh, this chapter isn't exactly very long, but there was nothing to be done about it. I promise more action in the next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!! J 

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